


His Protege

by cookiebook322



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: BAMF TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Choking, Emotional Manipulation, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Explosions, Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mute TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Not Beta Read, Protege Tommy AU, Protégé Tommy, Sad Toby Smith | Tubbo, Stockholm Syndrome, Strangulation, Swearing, Time Skips, Violence, i still cant tag, like a lot, lmanburg goes boom again, phil is bad dad, probably?, tommy has sad mask
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29499444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiebook322/pseuds/cookiebook322
Summary: “Dream, the only friend he had left in the world.God, Tommy never would have imagined he would see the day he would say such a thing regarding the masked man.And yet Dream brought a sense of calm, a sense of soothing.He made Tommy feel safe, he chased away the demons of loneliness, he was there for the young boy.Tommy couldn’t be more thankful for all Dream had done for him.”3 months was all it took for Tommy Innit to fall right into Dream’s waiting arms.Years was all it took for Tubbo to realise that exiling Tommy was the worst mistake he ever could have made.Moments was all it took for L’Manburg to fall.
Comments: 32
Kudos: 295





	His Protege

**Author's Note:**

> Mmmmmm protege tommy brain rot mmmmmmm.
> 
> This tag is all i could think about for weeks so i churned out this bullshit. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Come talk on twitter maybe :) @/ witheringchip

Three months in exile hadn’t done any favours for Tommy Innit.  


The blue of his eyes had long since faded and his hair hung ratty and dirty over his face. Any sadness he might have felt regarding his old friends was gone, hatred and disgust bubbling under his skin compared to the warm tingly feeling that used to engulf him at the mere mention of Tubbo’s name.  


The only thing Tommy could bear to deal with this deep into his exile was Dream. Dream, who was the only one to visit him during those three months, Dream who was the only one to keep him company without pity as an incentive, Dream, the only friend he had left in the world.  


God, Tommy never would have imagined he would see the day he would say such a thing regarding the masked man.  


And yet Dream brought a sense of calm, a sense of soothing.  


He made Tommy feel safe, he chased away the demons of loneliness, he was there for the young boy.  


Tommy couldn’t be more thankful for all Dream had done for him.  


So Tommy jumped at the opportunity to pay his friend back the moment Dream made his first request.  


“I want you to help me with something, Tommy.” The question had sprung from nowhere, the masked man had been propped against a log, his porcelain mask glimmering in the afternoon sun as he sharpened his axe while Tommy absent-mindedly chopped down tree after tree with the stone axe he had newly crafted after Dream had blown his old one sky high.  


A familiar ritual after those long three months.  


But Tommy could see the necessity in the procedure, why did he need weapons and armour when he had Dream? He wasn’t going on any adventures, he wasn’t running head first and hot-headed into wars anymore, Dream had taught him how to be better than that.  


Dream stood by him, protected him from what he needed protected from, supported him when he needed support and taught him how to be patient, how to be smart and how to be worth being friends with.  


Because his friends had left him because of how he had acted, how he used to be.  


Dream stuck by him and taught him how to better, Dream was his friend, his mentor.  


“Oh, yeah sure, Big Man.” Tommy had grinned, wiping the sweat from his brow with the end of the neck scarf he had kept firmly tied around his neck even after the long months of exile. All his clothes had fallen to tatters except for that scarf, that scarf was his and not a single thing could take it from him.  


Dream sat in silence for a moment longer, his calculated motions coming to a halt as the eyes of his mask studied Tommy closely.  


“We’re friends aren’t we, Tommy?” the masked man asked after a few prolonged seconds. He hoisted himself to his feet, swinging his axe a few times before reattaching it to his belt and striding closer to the younger boy. Despite their minimal height difference, Dream seemed to tower over Tommy and yet Tommy couldn’t fully find it in his heart to be intimidated.  


There was an inkling of fear nagging at the back of his brain, yes, there always would be after everything Tommy had gone through with Dream. The masked man had brought Tommy close to death far too many times for Tommy to be comfortable but Tommy had forgiven him since then; Dream had now saved him enough times to make up for the meetings with death.  


“Of course, Big D, you’re my only friend.” Tommy chirped, bouncing slightly on his feet, his grey eyes staring sincerely up at Dream’s beady black dots.  


Dream hummed in approval, placing a gloved hand on Tommy’s bony shoulder and grasping it tightly causing the boy to flinch ever so slightly, his smile wavering before he grinned just as enthusiastically. “I need you to do something for me, kid.” Dream started, his head tilting as he began to explain. “I need you to go to L’Manburg and I need you to steal something for me.”  


Tommy gaped, his eyes widening almost comically as he stared at Dream like the man had just strangled mushroom Henry right in front of him. “You want,” Tommy paused, his words jumbling together as he tried to comprehend what Dream had asked of him. “You want me to go to L’Manburg?”  


Dream watched him, his grip just as tight as earlier before he hummed. “That’s what I said, yes. Is there an issue?” the older man asked, his face inching closer to Tommy’s startled one.  


“Um, well I’m sure you didn’t forget, but, well,” Tommy stuttered under Dream’s scrutinizing gaze, the mask egging him on to finish his sentence. “I don’t know how to tell you this, man but I’m still kinda exiled from that place.”  


Dream’s gaze loosened before his hand fell away from Tommy’s body entirely, as if he was shocked by this revelation. Tommy watched with concern as Dream shoved his hands deep into his hoodies pockets before he chuckled.  


“I’m aware of that.” Dream cooed, stepping closer again to Tommy. “That’s why I have something to give you, something I think you’re finally ready for.”  


Tommy blinked in confusion, his own head tilting in thought as Dream’s mask grinned at him with excitement. “You have something to give me?”  


Dream nodded, grasping Tommy’s thin wrist in his much bigger, calloused hand to tug him back towards the campsite of Logsted and into the pitiable excuse of a tent suitably named Tnret.  


The masked man ensured Tommy was seated on his rough makeshift bed before he turned to the Ender chest that was tucked neatly into a corner. Tommy watched in intrigued silence as Dream crouched down, placing his hand on top of the item until the green tinted obsidian flashed in recognition. Dream swung the lid open in a single fluid motion, reaching into its depths to produce an object that Tommy couldn’t yet see, spinning on his haunches to face the younger again.  


Tommy could imagine the grin hidden behind the porcelain.  


“I want you to remember some things before I give you this, ok Tommy?” Dream said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I want you to remember that I am your only friend left in this world, I’m the only one that’s been there for you and that I’m giving you this gift solely based on the trust and friendship I truly think we have.” he chastised watching intently as Tommy nodded whole-heartedly.  


“Obviously, Dream. I trust you, I want to help you.” Tommy ensured, his whole body moving in tandem as he nodded his head in agreement with Dream’s words  


Dream seemed to consider it before he nodded, shifting his mask slightly to reveal his mouth that was smiling warmly at the boy. “OK, Tommy. This should help with the exile situation.”  


And with that Tommy watched as Dream produced a familiar item from behind his back, a circular piece of porcelain with a telltale strap stretched along the behind and on the front, a face so familiar to Dream’s own; a crudely drawn frowning face.  


Tommy felt his heath grow warm as Dream’s lips twitched into a grin while he handed the mask to Tommy who accepted it with trembling hands. Dream had gifted him his very own mask, a gift so closely tied to the very thing that made Dream, Dream. Tommy could have burst into song right in that moment as the weight of how monumental that was for him and his relationship with the older.  


Dream truly, truly trusted him enough to give him something so heartfelt and so recognisable. Dream gifting Tommy this mask could only mean one thing, Dream wanted it to be clear that Tommy was Dream’s, and Tommy couldn’t be more pleased.  
~

Tommy’s mission was clear from that point onwards.  


He was to go to L’Manburg and he had to steal Tubbo’s compass that pointed to him; the counterpart to the compass Tommy himself had received that lay solemnly in the chest right beside his bed in Tnret.  


He hadn’t understood at first and while he wanted to ask questions he resolved to leave them up in the air for the sake of his newly formed trust with Dream. Tommy would be damned if he shattered Dream’s trust by doubting him so soon.  


Regardless, Dream seemed to notice the uncertainty and to Tommy’s delight Dream had explained the thoughts behind the premeditated theft. “It’s simple, kid. I have plans for you, we can do some fucking amazing things together and for that I need to make sure that those pricks in L’Manburg can’t find you. The second they figure out you’re better than them they’ll try to come and find you. You don’t want that, right?”  


Tommy was adamant that he didn't.  


“Perfect. All you have to do is go in, grab the compass and leave. Tubbo keeps it in his office desk, last I saw.” Dream explained simply, grasping Tommy’s shoulder tight enough to leave bruises.  


It helped ground him.  


“Since you’re exiled you can’t remove that mask, ok. Under no circumstances does that mask come off and under no circumstances do you speak if someone sees you. You grab the compass and you fucking leave.” Dream stated firmly, his grip tightening more than what felt humanly possible. “Do you understand me?”  


And Tommy nodded, feeling confident, feeling a sense of determination he hadn't felt in months. He was going to make Dream proud because Dream had already done so much for him and Tommy would much rather throw himself into the sea than to make Dream regret being his friend after so long in exile.  


The next day Dream showed up in Logsted hours earlier than usual, leaning against one of the supports of Tnret, arms crossed with a lazy smile on his lips, his familiar glimmering axe hanging by his hip. Tommy woke up to Dream’s obnoxiously loud clapping and had nearly fallen out of the bed as Dream wheezed in the background and as Tommy recovered from his fright he felt his heart swell at the fact Dream still had his mask propped above his mouth.  


Dream never removed his mask so the fact Tommy could still see even this much of the older man’s face felt like an achievement.  


“Time to wake up, Tommy. Early start today.”  


Tommy had groaned but still forced himself out of the bed, stumbling out of Tnret into the cold morning air with Dream following closely behind him. “I have a few more things to give you before you go to L’Manburg.”  


Tommy stifled a yawn, rubbing at his tired eyes while still mustering an enthusiastic smile as he nodded. “Ok, Big Man, ‘m ready when you are.”  


Dream hummed in approval again, grabbing both of Tommy’s shoulders and squeezing. “I’m giving you this stuff assuming that you’re not gonna disappoint me today.” His voice was comforting with an underlying tone of clear threat but Tommy brushed it off. Dream just wanted reassurance that Tommy was capable of defending himself after he had to care for him for so long.  


“I would never, Dream. I’m gonna do exactly what you asked, don’t sweat it!”  


Dream waited a beat before releasing his hold on Tommy and striding with purpose back towards the Ender chest in Tnret only to return with a glimmering set of diamond armour and a newly crafted, similarly enchanted, netherrite axe.  


Tommy gasped, surprised at even the idea of having his own armour and weapon again after so long. He was so used to crafting half assed sets of iron armour to waste time only to have them blown up because why on Earth would he need protection when the only person nearby was Dream.  


Why would Tommy ever need protection from Dream?  


Dream urged Tommy to take the items with a small smile on his lips while also producing a bundle of new clothes to replace Tommy’s worn down and ripped ones. “They should be your size, maybe a little oversized but that just adds to the disguise, yeah?”  


Tommy beamed at the thought of new, warm clothes and graciously took them from Dream, darting towards Tnret with a new found ‘pep in his step’ to quickly change into them so as to not waste Dream’s time.  


The outfit was simple but it proved a point, Tommy was something to Dream. There would be no denying that once he had donned the clothes and mask; there was no doubt he would look like a carbon copy of the older man. Tommy hurriedly tugged on the beige trousers, tightening the belt and taking note of the loop on the leather was most likely to house his new axe and immediately after he pulled the black turtleneck sweater over his head followed by the red hoodie whose hood he settled over his shaggy, grown out hair. Tommy hesitated on the scarf around his neck before removing it and tying it around his wrist.  


The cherry on top was when he produced the shining porcelain mask from the chest by his bed to clasp onto his face.  


He was ready.  


It didn’t take long to strap on his new armour set and before Tommy had time to blink Dream was giving him one last warning squeeze on the shoulder at the entrance to the Nether hub. “No talking, no removing the mask. You take the compass and leave, do not disappoint me, Tommy.”  


Tommy felt his chest swell with pride as he marched into the cool embrace of the portal, the gateway moulding around Tommy’s form as he travelled back to the overworld, back to L’Manburg for the first time in months.  


He would not disappoint his friend.  


Being back in the SMP felt nothing like what Tommy had fantasized it would at the beginning of his exile. He simply felt like he was intruding on a party he wasn’t invited to. He attempted to stifle his nerves by drawing a large breath and fixing the mask to settle more comfortably on his face before he began his journey down the steps towards the community house.  


Thankfully there was nobody nearby as Tommy stalked along the prime path before eventually standing at the top of the staircase that descended directly into home.  


Except it didn’t feel like home anymore.  


Tommy shoved the feeling aside, entering L’Manburg as quickly and quietly as possible and maneuvering through the streets until he stood by the entrance of the Presidential house; the last building Tommy saw constructed before he was exiled.Tommy wet his lips to attempt to calm his nerves as he shakily opened the door, stepping foot into the cold and dark building. There wasn’t a soul in sight.  


Tommy moved without a sound, almost gliding along the corridors until he found Tubbo’s office, his hand reaching out to gingerly grasp the handle. His fingers flexed around the cool metal, the entirety of his arm seemed to be trembling as the hoodie Tommy wore seemed to drown him, it was too warm and too stuffy and all the walls felt like they were closing in on him and Tommy couldn’t help but panic.  


But he couldn’t leave now, the weight of the mask on his face reminded him of that, he couldn’t leave, he couldn’t pussy out, he couldn’t disappoint Dream.  


So he entered the room in one fluid movement, walking directly towards the desk that sat like an altar in the middle of the room. He began to ransack it, tearing through the paperwork scattered across the surface and emptying the drawers onto the floor. After a moment Tommy found that he was taking out months of pent up anger on the piece of furniture, tearing through the items and the wood like the desk itself had caused all of Tommy’s suffering; and it had in a sense, the desk was the president’s desk and Tubbo was president. Nothing that had unfolded would have happened if Tubbo had just stayed Tommy’s friend and yet here Tommy was, battering Tubbo’s possessions because Dream asked him to, wearing a mask so eerily similar to Dream’s, wearing clothes that Dream himself would wear.  


And for what?  


Tommy’s train of thought paused as he finally set eyes on what he was looking for, a small, innocent compass that was laying at the bottom of a drawer in the desk. He wet his lips once more before reaching down and wrapping his hand around the metal and slowly lifting it out of the drawer, his grip loose as if the cool metal was burning him.  


The compass was bent and burnt and as Tommy flipped it open he saw the glass shattered beyond repair, the red needle that should be pointing towards him was bent awkwardly, spinning manically in its confines.  


What the fuck.  


“What the fuck?”  


Tommy’s head snapped towards the door to be met with a startled Tubbo frozen in the doorway, his suit unruly and his hair messy. He looked like he had fallen out of bed and sleep walked to the office which, Tommy realised, wasn’t too unrealistic of a theory.  


“What the hell is this?” Tubbo demanded, his eyes narrowing at Tommy who was still stuck in a standstill behind the desk, the compass in a crushing grip in his palm.  


The compass that felt like it was heating up with Tommy’s fury as the boy seethed underneath the disguise of his frowning mask. What had happened to the item, what had Tubbo done? Tommy, while the idea of Tubbo rubbed him the wrong way after so long in exile, had looked after Ghostbur’s gift, he had kept it safe, intact, because it was Tubbo.  


Despite it all Tommy still cared.  


Tubbo clearly didn’t.  


Tommy slammed the compass onto the wood of the desk, the impact sending a warped ringing noise across the room causing Tubbo to flinch. He pointed accusingly at the item and Tubbo stared, ashamed, at the floor as Tommy’s mask stared him down.  


Despite the lack of words exchanged Tubbo still managed to understand the message.  


“It’s just a compass, I don’t see your concern.” The older’s voice was shaky yet stern and he raised his eyes again to watch Tommy carefully. “Now tell me who the hell you are.”  


Tommy kept his finger trained on the compass, his gaze unwavering.  


Tubbo shifted under the attention, wringing his hands together. “It’s broken, ok? I never got round to having it fixed but it’s not important, alright? Now who the fuck are you and what are you doing in here?”  


Tommy could feel the rage rearing in his soul as those words slipped through Tubbo’s lips. “Not important?” he growled lowly despite his better judgement.  


Tubbo flinched at the unexpected noise.  


Tommy took a single fury filled step towards the boy he would have once considered his best friend, scoffing as Tubbo stumbled backwards slightly. “Not fucking important?”  


Tubbo slowly produced his sword to point threateningly at Tommy who took another bold step forwards, sliding his axe out its restraints, the enchantments glimmering as the blade shifted.  


“I’m uh- I’m giving you one last chance to tell me who you are and why you’re here.” Tubbo stumbled over his words as he tried to keep his sword’s blade pointed towards Tommy’s chest who was still slowly stalking forwards, his own axe lifting to mockingly push against the sword threatening his life.  


“Go fuck yourself.” Tommy was struggling to contain the unfiltered rage that was bubbling under his skin and clouding his mind like an unrelenting fog, his vision almost going as red as the hoodie that dressed him as he started inching his axe closer and closer to Tubbo’s face who was beginning to turn a startling shade of white as his grip on his own weapon wavered.  


And Tommy realised that if he had not been interrupted he would’ve struck, he would have plunged his axe into Tubbo’s skull and he wouldn’t have felt an ounce of regret as the clanging sound the compass made against the desk rattled through his skull like a siren, reminding him that Tubbo didn’t care about him anymore, he exiled him, left him alone, left him to die and Tommy would have succumbed to it all if not for Dream.  


Dream, who was now towering in the doorway behind Tubbo staring blankly at Tommy.  


That’s when Tommy knew he had fucked up. Seriously fucked up.  


Tubbo followed Tommy’s line of sight and nearly jumped out of his skin when he caught sight of Dream staring down at him, the smiling face on his mask bringing absolutely no comfort to the young president.  


Dream’s gloved hands made home on each of Tubbo’s shoulders as the man squeezed them both tightly, leaning down so that his covered mouth was directly next to the young president’s ear. “Sorry about the inconvenience, Mr President. Me and my… friend, were just leaving.”  


Tommy stood still, entirely frozen with terror as Tubbo eyed the two masked intruders warily. “Your friend?”  


Dream hummed happily, leaning his cheek against Tubbo’s shoulder. “Friend, student, protege, call him what you will, but he’s done what he needed to do and we are now gonna show ourselves out.” He shifted so that the eyes of his mask stared directly into the matching one’s on Tommy’s. “Isn’t that right?”  


Tommy gulped before nodding his head once.  


Dream squeezed Tubbo’s shoulders again before reaching out and grasping one of Tommy’s shoulders with a warning, tight grasp. “Excellent, I’ll be seeing you sometime, Mr President.”  


Dream all but glided across the office with Tommy tightly in tow, sending one last sarcastic wave to Tubbo before he flung the window open and hurled an Ender pearl into the distance. “I need to have a word with you.” was the last thing Tommy heard as Dream spat it out quietly before they were engulfed in purple and Tommy was overrun with the nauseating feeling of teleporting after the pearl; that or it was entirely from fear of Dream’s threat.  


He had really, really fucked up.

~  
Oh he had definitely fucked up.  


Tommy had seen Dream mad before, during the original fight for the discs, during the war for independence for L’Manburg and especially right before Tommy’s exile when the younger had taunted the masked man with Spirit. But the anger Dream was showing right now was something Tommy had never witnessed before and it was terrifying.  


It was a silent anger that was wafting off of him as he stormed around Logsted while Tommy stood in front of the small cabin Ghostbur had built all those months ago, the mask now gone from his face as he trembled, his eyes nervously following Dream as he brooded to himself.  


Tommy was going to fucking die.  


“Dream, I-”  


“Don’t even try, Tommy. I don’t want to hear it.” Dream seethed, his head whipping around at an alarming speed to glare at the younger. “I gave you everything, I was here for you, I gave you gear, I let you into L’Manburg and I hardly asked for anything, Tommy! It was so, so unbearably simple, don’t take the mask off and don’t fucking speak and the first thing, the first thing I see when I go to check up on you like the friend I am, is you blabbling away to Tubbo.”  


Tommy couldn’t find the words to apologise as he wet his lips, his gaze dropping to the floor in shame as Dream scoffed. “I wanted to trust you, Tommy. I thought you were my friend.”  


Tears sprung into Tommy’s eyes, immeasurable self-hatred filling him as he thought over all the awful things he had done, Dream had given him gear, given him trust, given him friendship and he had thrown it all away because he couldn’t control his emotions.  


Perhaps that guilt is why Tommy didn’t fight back when Dream shoved him against the wall of the house with his gloved hand tight around the younger’s neck. “I told you not to speak under any circumstances so you’re not gonna speak, have I made myself clear?”  


Tommy tried to nod against the tight grip Dream relentlessly had on his throat but the man didn’t shift and Tommy could only struggle weakly against the hold, his mouth falling open in a choked scream as the pressure increased to an unbearable amount. He tried to yell, to claw at Dream’s forearms so that he could breath but Dream just kept pressing harder and harder and harder, the eternally smiling mask creeping closer and closer as Dream put the entirety of his body weight into crushing Tommy’s throat.  


The younger writhed against the hard wall behind him, the wood scratching uncomfortably against his back as he grabbed desperately at Dream’s unrelenting hands, his eyes watering up as tears started to slowly leak from his ducts, pouring down his cheeks in steady streams as he silently begged for forgiveness, his mind clouding with pain as the need for air suddenly overtook him.  


Dream only pressed harder, completely silent as he watched Tommy cry in agony, bruises forming from Dream’s fingers as the boy began turning purple, his eyes rolling upwards as he gave one last attempt at a scream before the masked man pressed harder once more and something changed.  


Time seemed to freeze as pain washed over Tommy entirely, his eyes fluttering shut as his body yearned for oxygen and the last thing he saw before consciousness flew away from him was Dream’s smiling mask, taunting him as his world faded to black and he slouched entirely in the masked man’s hold.

~  
Something was wrong and Tubbo could feel it.  


It was a bone deep worry, a shiver that wouldn’t stop running along his spine as he carefully crept towards L’Manburg, his shoulders raised and his hand ghosting the sword hanging at his hip.  


Though it certainly wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling. It’s a feeling that had resonated within Tubbo and the rest of the cabinet ever since the last time he had spoken with Dream all those years ago, when the masked man had disappeared from his office window with a stranger in tow to never be heard from again.  


Years.  


L’Manburg was peaceful and thrived with Dream’s absence and yet Tubbo couldn’t bring himself to settle. Quackity called him an idiot everyday without fail when Tubbo would flinch or startle at any flash of green and yet Tubbo could almost smell the anxiety wafting from the older at any given time of day.  


It was an awful feeling, the never ending stress that had followed Tubbo from his late teens to his early twenties left him feeling so much older than he was, the weight of his decisions still pressed heavily on his shoulders and Tubbo was surprised he hadn’t crippled yet from the pressure; especially without the support he once had from Tommy.  


Tommy’s exile was the one thing that still haunted Tubbo every time he closed his eyes, there wasn’t a moment that passed in a day that Tubbo didn’t want to throw himself into a wall with frustration for doing what he did.  


He had tried to bring his friend back. After it became clear that Dream wasn’t intending on returning anytime soon after he disappeared with that strange friend of his, Tubbo had clambered into a boat with Ghostbur and had gone to tell Tommy that he was welcome home only to find his friend gone.  


To this day Tubbo didn’t know if he had died, found a new home or gotten lost somewhere far and Tubbo would never forgive himself for it.  


“Something on your mind, Mr President?”  


Tubbo had to stop himself from yelling as he startled, his head whipping around to see Dream leaning completely relaxed against a nearby tree trunk. The man had changed over the years, his signature lime hoodie now being swapped for a darker, forest green one with a matching cloak flung over his significantly broader shoulders with the hood being tugged over his fair hair that had grown slightly longer to hang over the white porcelain of his mask that seemed more cracked and battered than Tubbo remembered.  


The attention demanding aura that rolled off him in waves was unchanged though and Tubbo found himself gaping at the reappearance of the man that had terrorised him so many years ago.  


“Not even a hello? Has it really that long, Tubbo?” Dream asked and Tubbo could hear the pout on his lips as his head tilted in faux innocence. “I thought you’d be curious about where I’ve been?”  


The president wet his lips nervously as he shifted under Dream’s stare, that worrisome shiver dancing along every inch of skin on Tubbo’s body once again. “Dream, it’s uh- it’s been a while.”  


Dream hummed in agreement, propelling himself off the tree to slink closer to the president who took a small step backwards in fright. “I’ve been very busy, been exploring some places, meeting some people. Just so many things I had to do and not enough hours in a day, you understand, don’t you, Mr President.”  


Tubbo wet his lips, his eyes darting quickly around the area as he shakily nodded.  


“Have you lost something?” Dream questioned, burying his hands in his pockets as he leaned uncomfortably closer to the younger man. Tubbo could smell the gunpowder that had melded itself to Dream’s skin and clothes and he found himself holding his breath as he shook his head.  


Dream laughed mockingly at that. “Have you forgotten how to speak, Tubbo? I know it’s been a while since I saw you last but you could actually fucking talk back then.”  


“I know how to talk, Dream.” Tubbo shot back timidly, he wanted so desperately to say something crueler in response to the remark but he was too terrified to even think straight.  


Why had Dream come back?  


“Where’s your friend?” Tubbo finally queried as he tried desperately to avoid the mask’s gaze.  


Dream made a noise of confusion before the answer seemed to dawn on him and he chuckled, backing away from Tubbo slightly. “You mean my protege.” he corrected. “He’s much more my student than he is my friend.” he crooned, circling around Tubbo like a predator eyeing up its prey before the final strike. “He’s here and he’s there. I’ve been training him up these past few years and it’s been a full time job.” Dream answered vaguely.  


Tubbo gulped as he warily tracked Dream’s movement. “So where is he right now? If you’ve spent that long together I figured he’d be with you.” Tubbo could feel it in his gut he was going to regret ever asking.  


Dream laughed lowly. “You’re right to be worried, Mr President.” the masked man finally stopped his pacing. “He never leaves my side so if he’s not here right now, there must be something wrong.”  


Tubbo could hear the sickening grin painted on Dream’s lips.  


“Maybe you should go check to make sure everything is ok.”  


Tubbo bolted, his heart dropping like a stone into his stomach as Dream’s words echoed through his head. Something was so terribly, terribly wrong and Tubbo didn’t know how to stop it nor what it even was that threatened him and the country.  


And then he saw it.  


It was terrifying, the large and looming obsidian grid that hung in the sky sent shadows pouring across the entirety of the nation and Tubbo felt his heart stutter as he saw the telltale red of TNT set up in careful intervals across the structure.  


And there was the protege, crouched cockily next to an uncompleted circuit of redstone, with the same mask and the same hoodie as the first time Tubbo had stumbled across him, the frowning face sending the exact same tremors of fear through his body as Dream’s did, the sad expression being even more taunting than Tubbo remembered.  


He had changed just as Dream had over the years, his older age allowing him to fill out the clothes that once drowned him and for his hair to grow even longer to the point that he had pulled the blond strands back into a small ponytail that sprouted from the back of his head. His hands were wrapped in bandages and one tightly clutched an enchanted netherite axe that was chipped slightly on the blade from use. The other clutched a handful of redstone dust ready to be placed to complete the deadly circuit, to certify L’Manburg’s doom.  


Tubbo couldn’t fully see the expanse of the grid nor the explosives but Tubbo knew the country would not be able to stand after such a brutal attack.  


“Why are you doing this?” Tubbo cried, his eyes watering as reality set in. “What did L’Manburg ever do to you?”  


The protege’s head tilted as the mask’s eyes stared condescendingly down at him but he didn’t reply.  


“Who the fuck are you?” Tubbo screamed, his throat going raw from the intensity of it.  


“Now, now, Tubbo. No need to get so emotional.” Dream taunted from behind him. “He’s only following orders.”  


Tubbo spun on his heel to glare with dewy eyes at the elder of the masked men. “We were on good terms before you left, what the fuck changed? Why do this now?” Tubbo knew he was being overly emotional, so much more than any good president would be in this kind of threat but he couldn’t help it.  


He was watching his country be held hostage, he was seeing the death certificate being signed right before his eyes and he felt so powerless.  


Dream shrugged. “It’s fun.”  


Tubbo had never felt so weak in all his life.  


He had felt weak when he sent Tommy to exile after allowing himself to be stepped all over, he had felt weak when he sat back and followed orders from Quackity when the vice formed the Butcher Army against Tubbo’s better judgement and forced the young president into the tundra to face Techno face to face. He had felt weak as the piglin bested Quackity with naught but a pickaxe after escaping their armed clutches and he had felt so horribly weak when Tommy disappeared, falling from his life like dust to the wind, but those occasions added up to nothing compared to this.  


The protege leaned off the obsidian slightly to listen to what Dream was saying before sending a chirpy, extremely out of place, thumbs up and lightly tossing a pearl to the ground that he quickly teleported after.  


Tubbo was close to shitting himself, he was surrounded on both sides by Dream and his student, both of which were heavily armed and above their heads was a structure that screamed nothing but death and despair. How could he possibly recover from this?  


Where was Quackity, where was Fundy? Where were any of his friends?  


The president tried his hardest to steady himself as he inspected the protege further now that he was up close; picking apart small details was the only form of control and stability Tubbo could grasp onto as the masked duo seemed to close in even more.  


His mask was chipped and scraped similarly to his axe and a few stray strands of hair hung over the porcelain, the blond tufts curling slightly to frame the mask. Tubbo trailed his eyes over his body, seeing how much taller he was than him, the protege almost being taller than Dream himself but what shocked Tubbo the most were the marks on the protege’s neck. They were clearly scars, very old scars but scars all the same, they were angry, dull red marks that wrapped around the stranger’s throat like a twisted sort of scarf. There were multiple, each of them similar in length and in shape and Tubbo realised with horror that they were fingers, four longer ones reaching around the expanse of the neck with a slightly smaller thumb pressing down on the front.  


The president’s eyes flitted with shock towards Dream who was watching the exchange with a lazy smile on his lips, lips that Tubbo only just realised he could now see as Dream had shifted his mask up ever so slightly to sit just below his nose.  


“You do remember him, right, Mr President? He’s changed quite a bit since you last met.”  


Tubbo carefully kept an eye on both the offenders, his hand hovering hesitantly over his sword but in a matter of moments the protege had noticed the movement and raised his axe to Tubbo’s chest in a silent threat, the eyes of his mask boring into Tubbo as he raised his hands in surrender and the president watched in defeat as their shoulders jolted in a silent scoff before he swiped Tubbo’s sword away entirely.  


Silent.  


Everything about the protege was silent now, nothing like what he was when Tubbo first confronted him.  


He had barged around the office, barrelling around the drawers and paperwork and he had actually spoken to him, the sentences were short and spoken in hushed anger but he had spoken which was a lot more than what Tubbo could say about him now.  


Dream watched the exchange with a cocky smirk before he reached forward and placed a hand on the blade of his students axe, his lips right next to Tubbo’s ear. “He’s so much better now, right? He follows orders perfectly, he’s loyal, he’s smart, he’s quick.” Dream rhymed off compliment after compliment, his breath hot against Tubbo’s face making the president tense. “You can drop the axe, kid. Our friend here won’t try anything just yet, right?” The question was posed as fairly lighthearted but Tubbo could hear the underlying threat and he wasn’t about to oppose it.  


He nodded rigidly and Dream hummed in approval and after a few hesitant moments the protege lowered his weapon and Dream moved his hand away allowing the president to feel like he could finally breathe.  


“You seem startled about something.” Dream purred. “And I have a feeling it’s not about the bombs.”  


Tubbo was disgusted at how Dream seemed so amused and at how unresponsive the protege was. “He’s so quiet.” Tubbo whispered.  


Dream chuckled. “You act like it’s a bad thing, Tubbo. He’s just following orders, I told you.” The masked man motioned his student forward and the moment the man moved Dream took a tight grip of the front of his hoodie, tugging him forward so that he and Tubbo were directly face to face.  


Unlike Tubbo, the protege was not bothered.  


“I know you’ve seen them, Tubbo. The marks, all around his neck like a fucking collar.” Dream hissed into Tubbo’s ear, his grip still tight on the protege’s hoodie. “They show people like you that he’s mine and they show him what happens when he disobeys me.” Dream continued. “I asked him not to speak all those years ago and I made sure he would follow that order to the best of his ability.”  


Tubbo vividly remembered that day all those years ago, when he was only 16, young and naïve and the president of a country. He remembered being woken up from a nap to the sounds of banging and rummaging and Tubbo just knew that not even Quackity would be so reckless. He remembered seeing the protege for the first time as they silently interrogated him about his Your Tommy compass, the compass that Tubbo had spent many sleepless nights crying over after a stray creeper had blown it up. He remembered hearing the protege speak, their voice was so ruthless, so angry and heated and he remembered how he had verbally attacked him, coming so close to killing him before Dream had showed up to save his skin.  


Just like how Dream had pushed his axe away not even moments ago.  


Tubbo, while he didn’t like the protege at all, hated the conclusion he was drawing as he heard Dream sound so smug with himself about the marks and about the silence. “What the fuck did you do?”  


Tubbo didn’t get the chance to receive an answer as an array of horrified yells rang out across L’Manburg, both masked men spinning to stare in annoyance at Fundy, Quackity and Ranboo, who had appeared at the entrance to L’Manburg to be met with the same devastating sight as Tubbo had before.  


A low primal growl tore through Dream’s throat as he shoved Tubbo forward into the protege’s grasp who quickly took a tight hold of the young president, spinning the man around to hold him against his red clothed chest with Tubbo’s own sword to his throat.  


Tubbo could hear the nervous breaths the man was croakily drawing in behind him as he watched his friends stare horrified at the monstrous structure in the sky before their gazes landed on a very troubled Tubbo who was surrounded by a man they thought was now only of their nightmare’s and another they had only heard tales of.  


Dream was angered by the confrontation, muttering curses under his breath directed towards an absent Punz as he drew his own axe and stood in an almost lackadaisical threatening position in front of the protege and a captive Tubbo.  


“I was wondering when you would all bother to show up, me and my buddy were getting bored just playing with the president, yaknow.” Dream mocked, his lips pulling back to show his mocking grin that had not yet been hidden by his mask. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you actually didn't care about this country.”  


The men were starstruck, Fundy’s ears dropping against his head in pure shock and disbelief as Quackity quickly unsheathed his diamond sword, the dim light of the slowly setting sun reflecting off the blade to show the anger dancing behind the man’s one working eye. “Let Tubbo go, Dream. Let’s talk about this civilly for once in your life.”  


Dream seemed to consider it, his head swaying from side to side as he absent-mindedly swung his axe while he hummed in thought, quickly looking over his shoulder towards the protege who Tubbo could feel shrug in answer before the man let out a chirpy, “no,” towards the remainder of the cabinet. “I’d much rather you all come down and have a chat, I’ve been gone for so long and I have yet to introduce you to my student, here.” Dream motioned towards the protege who had yet to move again, the masked man standing rigid and attentive with his hold on Tubbo unrelenting.  


Tubbo watched his friends think it over, hushed whispers being exchanged between the group before they all cautiously made their way towards Dream, Tubbo and the masked stranger, Quackity leading the charge with a wary eye watching for any hidden attacks, his diamond sword glinting with lethality.  


“Now, Big Q there’s no need for the weapon is there? We’re old friends, yeah? This is just a quick catch up and then me and my protege here will be on our way.” Dream sighed humorously, his axe still swinging childishly in his gloved grip.  


Quackity almost growled, lowering the blade ever so slightly as Fundy cautiously reached out and placed a gentle paw on the weapon to keep it down, reaching out with his other trembling paw to show their temporary surrender to the masked man. “We’re not gonna do anything as long as you don’t do anything to us.” the fox offered, his eyes glancing accusingly at the obsidian structure.  


Dream easily followed his gaze, laughing at the fear behind the hybrid’s eyes. “That’s just a side project of mine, don’t worry too much about it.” he hummed, stepping closer to the trio who shuffled clumsily away from him. Dream raised his hands, his axe doing nothing to make him look vulnerable despite his position.  


“I don’t plan on killing any of you today, you can all take the sticks out of your asses.” He ended up hisisng through clenched teeth, the hesitance clearly starting to bother him. “Now please tell me where the fuck your manners are, my student here has been dying to introduce himself to you for years.”  


Tubbo felt his own anger begin to boil under his skin as he writhed against the protege’s grasp. “You want him to introduce himself after ruining his fucking throat, you dick?” the president rasped, the protege’s hold tightening warningly as the sword grazed dangerously close to the skin of his neck.  


Dream’s deafening reply of silence hung heavy in the air as Ranboo’s entire body trembled at the realisation of Tubbo’s words while Quackity seemed to freeze entirely. Fundy looked ready to cry as he stared desperately at the captured president who held his breath as Dream turned slowly to stare at him from behind the mask.  


The sudden maniacal laughter that erupted from Dream was horrifying and it sent shivers through Tubbo’s entirety. The bellows seemed to chase the breath away from the green clad man as he drunkenly tumbled towards Tubbo, his gloved hand reaching out to press harshly against the blade, Tubbo having to inhale sharply to stop the sword from cutting him too severely.  


“He can speak just fine, Tubbo. Sure It fucking hurts, I made sure of that, but he could speak if he wanted to.” Dream purred, his free hand coming up to ghost the marks on his protege’s neck. “But I ask him not to speak, so he doesn’t fucking speak, it’s very simple, Mr President, try to keep up.”  


Tubbo glared stubbornly at Dream despite the fear that was still running bone deep inside of him. “You’re a Goddamn monster.”  


Dream shifted his mask to show his grin. “Maybe I am. And what about it?”  


Tubbo couldn’t help but smile. “Ask them.”  


The protege didn’t even have time to warn Dream before the hilt of Quackity’s sword ploughed into the man’s cheek, shattering the mask on his face that fell to the floor in bloodied pieces. Dream’s bare and bleeding face stared at his broken possession with surprisingly expressive eyes and Tubbo was astounded at the show of emotions that Dream apparently did have.  


The protege’s grip loosened during the chaos, their concern for their partner clear as their attention divided between the different parties and Tubbo took full advantage, driving his elbow backwards to similarly slam into the frowning mask.  


The mask didn’t shatter this time but the protege stumbled, the sword falling from Tubbo’s neck and the president bolted forward, shoving past Dream to stand with his friends, Ranboo quickly patting his shoulder with a wary smile before they all turned to the masked duo; even though Dream was no longer masked.  


And Dream was fuming.  


His eyes held flaming fury, his hands curling in and out of fists as he cracked his neck, turning briefly to his protege to mumble, “do it.” before he readjusted his grip on his axe and faced the cabinet. “I’m gonna fucking kill you all and I’m going to enjoy it.”  


Tubbo didn’t doubt his declaration in the slightest.  


To Tubbo’s utter dismay he spotted the protege pearling back onto the obsidian paths, pulling a fresh lump of redstone from his pocket but not before sending a mock salute to Tubbo who watched with a pit of dread swallowing him whole.  


Dream only cackled, his green eyes lighting up with fire as he tossed a familiar pearl into Tubbo’s lax grip. “Go on, Mr President. What more have you to lose? Go speak to him.”  


Quackity quickly took hold of Tubbo’s arm, his eye swimming with hurt and loss and every variation of despair as his footing wobbled against the quakes of L’Manburg’s death.  


Fundy grasped Quackity’s shaking hand, peeling it from the president as he dragged Quackity away, the fox’s orange fur almost glowing against explosions that framed his form.  


Ranboo stood starstruck as the TNT rained from above and Tubbo could see the tell-tale sign of smoke rising from the hybrid’s face as he burnt himself through his misery.  


From what Tubbo had heard L’Manburg was the one place Ranboo could wholeheartedly call home and now it was gone; in a matter of days the ender-hybrid wouldn’t even remember anything about the nation apart from scribbles in his memory book.  


Tubbo palmed the pearl in his hand nervously as Dream cackled like a backing track to the bombs, the lack of mask somehow making the man scarier than the president could have ever comprehended. There was nothing he could do to stop the mass destruction and it was painful, Tubbo thought he had felt weak earlier, the Gods were giving him a run for his money now.  


He was snapped from his stupor when a stack of TNT landed on the ground right between himself and Ranboo whose face fell even more at the sight, the ender-hybrid vanishing in a flurry of purple only moments later. Tubbo forced the doubts in his head down as he tossed the pearl in a practiced arc onto the obsidian above, warping away only seconds before the bomb detonated, leaving a smoking pit of debris where he had been standing seconds earlier.  


Tubbo almost fell from the grid when he landed, the recoil of the explosions managing to make even the sky tremble, the air vibrating with each explosion leaving Tubbo scarily unbalanced.  


“Careful, Mr President. I can’t guarantee you’ll live if you fall.” Dream yelled over the bangs, seemingly also having pearled into the sky to join Tubbo and the protege. Tubbo turned to face him, his feet planted firmly on the obsidian below him that trembled but didn’t crumble. Dream’s eyes were still manic but he seemed tamer now, his hair violently windblown and the blood on his face dried and starting to flutter away in the wind as dust. He looked formidable, standing with the bombs as a backdrop as the setting sun cast his long silhouette across the stretch of the grid, the dark shadow enveloping Tubbo forcing a shiver from the president.  


Tubbo could hear the thud of footsteps creep up behind him, instantly realising that the protege had cornered him on the grid.  


Tubbo had nowhere to run.  


He swallowed that fear to the best of his ability, reaching out of habit for his sword before he realised the protege still had it in his possession. Tubbo was actually fucking defenceless as his country was being blown sky high and he was cornered by the two biggest threats to his life in the server.  


Great.  


“I don’t know what to say to you, Tubbo. You’ve lost and there’s nothing else I can really do to rub it in, huh?” Dream hummed, cracking his neck as he stalked closer, his balance unnervingly steady as he walked across the shaking obsidian. “What exactly are you gonna do now?”  


Tubbo took a step backwards away from the approaching Dream only for his back to hit the solid chest of the protege who let out a raspy chuckle much to Tubbo’s surprise. The protege shoved him away, the president stumbling as he toppled only for Dream to catch him and hold him in place as the protege crept closer and closer.  


The situation was animalistic and Tubbo knew wholeheartedly that he was the prey and these two predators were going to devour him, regardless if Tubbo fought back or not.  


The protege was essentially breathing into Tubbo’s mouth in a matter of seconds, the frowning mask actually fogging up in response to Tubbo’s heavy breaths. “Go on, kid. He came up here just for you, give him what he wants, Tommy.” Dream laughed, keeping a tight grip on Tubbo.  


Tubbo froze.  


He couldn't move, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t think clearly as that name, that forgotten, cursed name that haunted Tubbo even after all those years rang through his skull, banging and crashing against his brain as his eyes involuntarily watered.  


No.  


No, no, no, no, no, no , no.  


Dream was lying, taunting him one final time before he allowed his protege to kill him; the protege that was not Tommy Innit.  


Except the protege stood still for a moment before they rolled their shoulders, reaching with a slow and mocking hand to their mask, peeling it off like a second skin to show a face Tubbo had long since ingrained into his memory, a face Tubbo had long thought of as gone, a face Tubbo believed to be dead.  


And he was in a sense, because while that was Tommy, it wasn’t Tubbo’s Tommy.  


This Tommy’s face was pale and noticeably older, his previously baby blue eyes were a dull grey and a jagged scar through his eyebrow, narrowly missing his eye. There was a lazy smile on his face as he tossed his mask to Dream who caught it with ease, finally letting go of Tubbo who didn’t move regardless.  


He couldn’t breath as Tommy carelessly brushed the stray hairs away from his face, his eyes watching Tubbo almost pitifully as the president began to cry.  


Tubbo couldn’t comprehend what had happened all those years ago, what had happened during those months of exile, during the years that Dream had vanished and Tommy had been presumed dead. Was this Tubbo’s fault? Did he drive his best friend right into Dream’s waiting grasp?  


Tubbo was hit with everything at once, he remembered the confrontation in his office all those years ago, how the protege, how Tommy, had been so angered over Tubbo’s broken compass.  


Oh fuck.  


The tears were falling freely as Tubbo felt his soul shatter. Tommy had thought-  


“Tommy, what happened to you?”  


Tommy’s face twisted and Tubbo felt his stomach drop. He had never seen Tommy this angry before. As a teenager Tommy had always been so carefree, so vulgar and happy and while he could definitely hold a grudge, Tubbo had never imagined the boy, the man, God Tubbo was confused, could hold so much rage in his heart.  


Especially not directed towards Tubbo.  


And yet Tommy seemed to be holding himself back from running the president through, his jaw was clenched causing the hand shaped marks on his neck to dance in a sick taunt and Tubbo took a shaky step forward, reaching out to his friend, the man he had loved for so long and mourned for just as long.  


And Tommy fucking growled. “Go fuck yourself.”  


His voice was quiet and raspy and Tubbo could hear the strain on his vocal chords as the words came out like whistles and yet Tommy didn’t seem to care. Instead he looked to Dream momentarily and before Tubbo could even see how the elder responded Tommy lunged forward like a rabid animal, taking a tight hold of Tubbo’s presidential suit. “You have no idea how much I fucking hate you.”  


Tubbo wanted nothing more than to pull Tommy into a hug, to massage his throat and give him tea and make sure he was ok because, God, he looked like he had gone through the Nether and back dozens of times over and yet Tommy looked at him with nothing short of disdain.  


“Tommy I-“  


“Don’t.” Tommy spat, his face twisting in pain. “Don’t fucking talk to me like we’re friends or something because you left me behind years ago.” He shook Tubbo slightly, his lips pulling back into a scowl. “You exiled me, left me alone for months and the only person that ever thought of visiting me and making sure I was ok was Dream, not you, not Big Q, not even my fucking father, it was the man I considered my enemy for so fucking long. He looked after me, treated me like a human and he took me in when I was ready to give up. And where were you? Running your little country, playing president with the people I thought were my friends? Don’t talk to me like you care, don’t act like you missed me.” Tommy spat, his voice cracking over and over until his angered rant sounded like nothing more than a whisper.  


He began to hack, his grip tightening on the fabric as he wheezed in pain, his eyes screwed shut as his head shook in fury.  


The bombs kept exploding, the country was falling apart and Tubbo could feel himself falling too.  


Dream reached out from behind Tubbo, laying a hand on Tommy’s shoulder to squeeze slightly, Tommy setting his own hand on top of it in thanks. When Tommy looked at Tubbo again, the president could hardly recognise him.  


There was no light behind his eyes anymore, not even an ounce of anger.  


He looked so happy, so pleased and content as Dream released his shoulder to ruffle his hair like an older brother would. Dream smiled as he waltzed from behind Tubbo to stand firmly behind Tommy, behind his student, his protege, his fucking puppet.  


“Do it, kid.”  


Tubbo didn’t even flinch as Tommy ran him through with his own sword, the blade glistening with the fire of the explosives as Tommy’s eyes lit up again, filled with life and fire as the world around him succumbed to death.  


Tubbo coughed pitifully, his legs buckling leaving his body being supported solely by the sword that skewered him and with the last drops of life in his body Tubbo pushed himself forward, the sword digging deeper into his chest than Tubbo could comprehend, to wrap his arms around Tommy. He clung to him and Tommy didn’t protest, keeping his hand steady on the handle of the blade as Tubbo buried his face into Tommy’s chest, sobbing silently.  


Tubbo chased after the warmth of the man that was once his best friend, clung to any shred of hope that maybe one day, one day Tommy would come home to him, away from Dream’s influence, away from the crater of L’Manburg, away from any form of power or government so that it was just them again, like old times.  


And as Tubbo drew his dying breaths it felt like even for a moment it was just them, connected by Tubbo’s own blade. They were one for those few seconds, they were together.  


Until Tommy pulled the sword out and Tubbo dropped to the floor in a heap, having to let go of Tommy with no more support to keep him standing. He watched with drooping eyelids as Dream handed Tommy the mask back and the man wore it once more, the frown watching him sadistically as Tubbo drew one final shaky breath before he fell entirely from the obsidian grid into a smoking pit below.  


There was TNT falling continuously from the sky, landing next to his head and Tubbo knew there was escape, not anymore.  


Tubbo doubted there ever was one.  


L’Manburg had died for a final time and Tubbo would die with it and it seemed, Tubbo realised, that the only thing that was ever meant to be was that Tubbo would take his dying breath with Tommy by his side.  


As the Tommy Tubbo had always known died for certain when he dawned that porcelain mask for the second time and Tubbo died at the protege’s hand, his body lying incinerated amongst the rubble of the country that had brought them together all those years ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah
> 
> I think i like how it ended up? Eh idk. Please do leaves kudos and maybe a comment it is amazingly motivational.
> 
> Might make a mini-series of what actually happened between Tommy and Dream during the huge time jump.  
> I’ll think.
> 
> Love y’all <33


End file.
